


the journey back

by pyblos



Series: back at the beginning with you [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyblos/pseuds/pyblos
Summary: "now here we are, I'm suddenly standingat the beginning with you"only when you are lost does the red string of fate appear — in which you and tsukishima find each other for the second time
Relationships: Matsukawa Issei/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/Reader
Series: back at the beginning with you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070516
Kudos: 15





	1. a life half-lived

**Author's Note:**

> this is the continuation of 'the beginning', the first part of this series!

The funeral is something you barely remember, white noise buzzing loudly in your ears as you move around almost mechanically. In front of all these people, you aren’t quite sure how to act, and the subdued pride in you refuses to break down so publicly.

You’re ushered around by warm hands, seated in chairs, drinks pushed into your still hands. Hushed whispers are exchanged above your head, but you can’t be bothered to figure out what it's about. All that runs through your mind is the scene of the accident playing on repeat. You watch it with a morbid fascination, eyes distant as you recall the burning heat on your skin, the stinging in your eyes, the aches on your body. The blood that trickles into your eyes as you scream yourself hoarse at the mangled bodies of your parents, how broken they were, how dull their eyes were.

You blink once. Twice. Thrice. 

Cool beige walls greet you as you begin to take in your surroundings. A grey couch, an askew photo frame on the wall, a familiar shirt and worn sweatpants. 

“Issei?” Your voice is small, and your breathing begins to quicken. “Issei!”

He comes darting through a door, a towel hanging around his neck. You jump to your feet and dash into his arms, gripping the soft material of his shirt tightly. His arms flail around in surprise for a second before coming to wrap around you tightly. He smooths your hair down, and the familiar action has you calming down.

“You’re at my apartment, it’s okay.” His deep voice grounds you, and you look around to see that, yes, this is Issei’s apartment. One that you’ve been to too many times to count. It is a place you’ve spent many days lounging in, and many nights sleeping over at.

Issei guides you back to the couch gently and you cling to him, refusing to let go of the one thing that was holding you back from tipping over the edge. There are so many words you’d like to say right now, but the only thing that comes out are strangled cries.

Everything that you’ve been holding back since the accident, everything that has been pushing against the flimsy door you’ve hidden it behind comes pouring out in the sobs that wrack through your body. Issei doesn’t bother with words; he knows they aren’t what you need right now.

What you need is family, and he’s all you got left.

* * *

“Issei!” 

Sweat drips down your neck, soaking the flimsy shirt you wore to bed. All you could focus on was the screeching of car tires and the horrid, wrenching twist of metal twisting as your parents flew out of the car, their broken bodies strewn across the street. And all the blood, god, there was so much bloo-

Your door slams open, and Issei flies in, his hair sticking up in all directions as his sleep-clouded eyes are filled with worry. He slips into bed, kneeling in front of you. The heat of his knees brushing against your legs through the sheets has you shifting uncomfortably, though his presence soothes your panicked mind.

He doesn’t say a word, too accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night to your nightmares. He just sits and waits for your breathing to even out, eyes trained upon your twisting fingers. A familiar silence sits between you as you match your breaths to Issei’s steady breathing. 

“I-I had the dream again.” Your voice is soft, trembling ever so slightly. You hate the weakness showing through, and you would give anything to put the usual mask of indifference. But this was Issei. Issei who had been there for you since you were kids, who had watched you skin your knees the first time you tried rollerblading, who had helped you sneak out of the house when your parents were fighting. He was the one who took you in after you lost your parents, and the only one you trusted enough to be vulnerable around.

“Do you wanna go walk?” Issei, ever the reliable best friend. He knows what you need before you even say anything. You nodded, letting him pull you off the bed. It is only with years of familiarity that you allow him to dress you in warm clothes without any shame. He’s seen all of you before, so what was the point in hiding?

You’re out of the house and walking down the dimly lit streets before you even realize, and the creeping shadows in the corner of your eyes has you shifting closer to Issei. He wraps a warm arm around you, pressing you into his side. He’s the only safety you’ve ever known, and that stays true tonight as your raised heartbeat steadies out.

The night is quiet, punctuated only by the distant sounds of cars, the soft rustle of leaves dancing along to a gentle melody playing in the back of your mind. You hum along to it, and Issei merely squeezes your shoulders in response. It’s a song you’ve sung a million times since childhood, and neither of you have bothered to acknowledge that it’s a song you’ve never heard. 

You aren’t sure for how long you’ve looped the blocks, and when you’ve arrived back home. All you know is that your mind is no longer a panicked mess, and Issei is by your side, as he used to do, as he’s always done. You owe everything to him, and you would give everything up in the world for him.

* * *

“Do you have everything you need?” Issei fusses over you as you give him a tired smile. He had taken it upon himself to take care for you since the accident, and while you appreciated him for it, you didn’t adore the mothering he occasionally did.

“Yes, Issei. I have everything.” Your dry response has him raising his brows and backing away.

“Alright, alright. I get it. No more fussing.” He grins at you, hands raised. “Can you blame me though? You’re heading into college at last.”

A frown slips onto your face. “You’re only a year older than me dipshit. Stop making me sound like your child or whatever.”   
“Ah, but you are now. My adoptive child,” he sniffs and pretends to wipe a tear away. “How they grow up so fa-”

The fist you send flying into his stomach is enough to knock the breath out of him, and he groans, dropping to the floor in his usual show of dramatics. You ignore him, stepping over his prone figure and head towards the door. But before your hand lands on the door handle, Issei yells at you to wait.

“What Issei? I’m going to be late at this rate.” He isn’t deterred by your sharp tone and gestures for you to wait as he disappears into his room. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

He comes running back out, brandishing a long, thin thing. Was that a stick?

A vision flashes through your mind's eye, only for a second, but the details are vivid - Issei looking as sleepy as always, but somehow different. His clothes were of olden style, his face littered with scars. And those hands, ones that you were so familiar with, large and calloused were holding a stick too.

You blink rapidly, washing away the lingering after images as Issei,  _ your Issei _ , waves a lazy hand in front of you, the stick narrowly missing your eyes.

“Oi, earth to Princess.” You scowl at him.

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Then don’t zone out when I’m giving you presents.” He pulls a face at you. You mirror his expression, go as far as to stick your tongue out. Issei makes to poke it with the stick, and you lunge back with a shriek.

“Why are you even giving me a stick anyways?” You grumble. Honestly, nineteen years with this guy and you still have no idea how his brain works.

“Because it reminds me of you!” He grins.

Your face falls into a deadpan. “It what?”

“You know, stick, sticky? Like how you dropped your ice cream the other day?”

“You know, I worry for you sometimes,” you drawl, dead eyes boring into his smiling ones. “Besides, didn’t you bring me that already?”

His smile drops. “No? This is the first time I’ve brought you a stick?” Issei narrows his eyes at you. “Who else has been giving you sticks? Was it Makki? I’ll fight his ass!”

“No, it wasn’t Makki. You’re the only weirdo who gives me stupid things like this,” you snicker. “Can I go to school now?”

“Wait! Bring the stick with you.” 

You gape at him, brows raising so high it was a wonder they didn’t jump off your face. “No.”

Issei pouts, though you could see the amusement shining through. “Why not? I got it for you as your first day of uni gift.” He shoves the stick closer into your face, and you bat it away.

“Because it’s a stick? And it’s too long for me to fit in my bag?” This doesn’t deter him, instead prompting him to break off a piece of the twig, shoving it into your hand before darting off to your room.

“Okay, here, now you can have a tiny piece of it to put in your pocket. I’ll put the rest in your room!”

“Issei, no-” The fight leaves you, knowing that your stubborn best friend won’t listen to anything you say. Stuffing the piece of twig into your pocket, you yell over your shoulder as you leave the house. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

His voice calls out from where he still lingers in your bedroom. “Bye Princess! Have a good day at school!”

The journey to the university doesn’t take long, and before you even realize, you’re seated in your first class next to a lanky blond who has his headphones on as he messages someone. You frown slightly at him, an odd sense of deja vu washing over you as you stare at him. He must have felt your gaze on him, as he finally lifts his gaze off his phone to return your frown.

“Can I help you?” Despite the politeness in his words, you pick up on the slight undertone of annoyance. You shrink back from him, and mutter out a soft  _ no _ , turning your head to stare down at the wooden table instead. You shove your shaking hands into your pockets, your fingers curling around a thin, rough object. 

_ Please look away, please look away, please look away. _

He huffs, and turns back to his phone, fingers returning to their rapid dance across the screen. Despite his chilly greeting, you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that settles upon your skin, clinging like spiderwebs. But there isn’t time to contemplate it, not when your teacher’s starting the lesson and your laptop hasn’t been set up yet.


	2. echoes of the past

The first month of university flies past in a blur, and it is only when Issei drags you out of your room - which you haven’t left in a while except for school, meals, and showers - to meet your high school seniors that you snap out of the haze that’s been clouding your mind.

“Iwaizumi’s leaving for California in a couple weeks, figured we’d meet him and cause a little chaos while we still can.” Issei flashes you a mischief filled grin, and you can’t help but mirror it, memories of your high school days playing your mind. Iwaizumi had taken the brunt of you, Issei’s and Makki’s shenanigans, and he even had a scar on his left elbow to prove it.

“Where are we meeting them?”

“At Iwaizumi’s house, then maybe a nearby bar.” You watch as Issei’s shoulders shake slightly, his face tilted away from you.

“No,” you groan. “Tell me you told him we were going to meet.”

At this, Issei lets out his laughter, and the sound warms you, wrapping around your cold body like a thick jacket. His chuckles are infectious, and your giggles join his, filling the street you were strolling down with your joy.

It isn’t long until you find yourself turning a corner and facing a street that’s almost like a second home to you. Three houses down from the corner, past the tree that looks like an old woman hunched over in the dark, and there was Iwaizumi’s house. The setting sun casts a gentle glow, and the swirling leaves on the ground have your smile growing wider, happiness lifting your chin a little higher, your steps a little lighter. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this way, and you cherish every moment of it. 

From your peripheral, you spy a familiar head of pink creeping up the alleyway on Issei’s side, and you bite your tongue in an effort not to ruin Makki’s fun, but Issei knows your tells better than you do, the little scrunch of your lips has him whirling around immediately.

Makki freezes, his hands a fingertip away from Issei’s nose. Issei goes cross-eyed and you burst into another round of laughter, bending over at the two idiots.  _ Your idiots _ .

(You fail to notice the soft smiles they send your way, and the triumphant grins they exchange with one another.)

“Makki!” You grin brightly at him, moving around Issei to hug him. “I missed you!”

He wraps his arms around you, squishing your face into his chest. “Princess! It’s been too long since you’ve graced this lowly peasant with your beautiful face!”

Pulling away from him, a small pout rests upon your lips. “Stop calling me that, I thought we agreed to leave that nickname behind in high school.”

Makki pulls a face. “Uh, no? I don’t remember making such a ridiculous promise.”

You scowl, faking a kick at him. He yelps and darts away and you give chase, yelling at him all the while. It doesn’t take long for you to reach Iwaizumi’s house like this, and Makki bangs on the door.

“Iwaizumi! Open up before I get murdered by her royal highness!”

You reach him just as the door opens, and a hard shove has him falling through the open doorway and landing at Iwaizumi’s feet. Makki groans in pain, and you seat yourself on his back, grinning brightly up at Iwaizumi’s annoyed face.

“Hey Iwa-chan!” 

He merely pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowing. “I just wanted one last night of peace.”

“Well, you know you’ll never get that around us.” Issei snorts from the doorway.

“I know, that’s why I’m running away to San Francisco.” 

“Rude!” Issei, Makki and you echo in unison. Iwaizumi slumps, and you swear you can almost hear his mental cries for strength.

There’s a few moments of chaos as Iwaizumi tries to lift you off Makki and Issei yanking Makki by his feet and someone’s shoes flying, but you somehow make it out of Iwaizumi’s house relatively unscathed. Said owner is currently tucked under Issei’s arm in a headlock, with Makki skipping happily beside. You trail behind them, watching your boys struggle to walk properly. If only Oikawa was here, your group would have been complete.

Issei turns around, eyes bright with joy. He grins brightly at you, one arm still around Iwaizumi’s neck, the other reaching out to you.

“Coming, Princess?”

You grin at him, sliding your hand into his, like you have since you were toddlers, and squeeze it tightly. 

“Stop calling me that!”

* * *

Your first assignment receives a passing grade, and the sigh that you let out is painfully audible, drawing your seat partner’s attention. 

“You did well?” He asks, the first bit of conversation he’s initiated out of the customary thank yous and excuse mes he usually offers.

You blink at him with wide eyes, shock filling every vein and artery that runs through you. He was making conversation? He was  _ talking _ to you? There was no way this was actually happening, not when the last three months had been filled with him turning down everyone’s offer to hang out after school or eat together during meal times. The mysterious blonde who kept to himself was now talking to  _ you _ .

“So?” The irritation in his voice jerks you back from the rush of thoughts, and your cheeks heat up. 

“Ye-yeah, I guess so.” Your voice is small, and you just want to shrink into a tiny ball and disappear at the unimpressed look he sends you. 

(“ _ Tsukki _ ,” he can almost imagine Yamaguchi admonish, a hand swinging out to lightly smack him. “You said you'd be nice!”)

He glares at the ground, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he speaks up once more, this time more gently.

“Yeah, me too.” It’s awkward, the air between you two filled with uncertainty. All you want to do is run away from it and go back home, back to familiarity where Issei was probably cleaning out the fridge once more. But there’s a voice that whispers that he’s trying, and he’s just as lost as you are. So you reach a trembling hand out, a silent offer to exchange papers.

His tensed shoulders sag, and wordlessly, you swap papers. You hadn’t planned on saying anything until you saw the big red mark on his paper.

“You got an A? Dude, that’s amazing!”

“It’s nothing,” he waves a hand dismissively, though you notice the light coating of pink across his pale cheeks.

“It’s not nothing, you did well, you should be proud of yourself.” You frown at your own paper in his grasp. “I would do anything to be able to do this well.”

“I can tutor you- that is, if you want?” 

Your head whips up so fast it gives you whiplash. Tsukishima has his head turned away from you, though that does little to hide the blush that deepens with every second passing. It’s almost endearing, this bashfulness of his. It’s certainly more emotion than you’ve seen in the past few months as his seat partner.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

The relieved smile that breaks out from him is enough to quell the pit of uncertainty bubbling in your stomach, and you settle back into your seat and wait for the teacher to start the class.

* * *

“Hey!” You raise a hand and wave at Tsukishima. “Over here.”

He jerks his head in recognition and makes his way over, weaving between the tables and chairs that separate you two. It takes him three near accidents and a slight trip over an outstretched leg, but he reaches your table and sets his bag down.

“Hey.” He nods, slipping his headphones down to his neck.

You smile at him awkwardly, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. Several study sessions had passed, and the tension eases with each one as you learn to navigate around each other. That didn’t mean you knew how to react to his remarks all the time - some of them were especially aggravating and had you shrinking away from him.

“Are you going to order anything, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

You start, blinking at him in surprise. “I wasn’t staring at you, I was just- uhh, stoning.”

He snorts, a slight smirk slipping onto his face. “Sure, if that’s what you want to go with. Now go order. I want an iced mocha and a strawberry shortcake.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you register his order, and it’s years of growing up with assholes for friends that have the following words slipping out. “The salty bean pole likes sweet stuff? How uncharacteristic of him!”

Tsukishima’s smirk falls into a scowl, and he tosses a napkin at your grinning face. “Shut up and get me my food.”

“Alright,  _ strawberry shortcake _ , I’m going.” Giggles erupt from you, even as you stand in line for the food.

It was a rather adorable fact - you never thought someone like him would enjoy such sweet things. Storing this knowledge for future use, you rattle off both your orders and when the cashier asks for your name, you shoot them a wink and whisper something else instead.

The red scrawl of ‘shortcake’ on the iced mocha has Tsukishima’s glare intensifying, a dark blush staining his cheeks as he splutters. It’s worth the absolute hell he puts you through later on during the study session.

* * *

“There is no way that happened!” You laugh, one hand covering your mouth to stifle the noise as the other smacks Tsukishima’s arm lightly. He no longer flinches away from your touch, nor bristles angrily when you come close to him. 

“It did, unfortunately.” Tsukishima grumbles, glaring down at the papers spread across the table between you. “He turned up to the training camp and stayed all the way through as a ball boy.”

“You have to admit, it takes some guts to pull that off,” you chuckle, wiping the beginnings of tears away. 

“Or a lot of stupidity and thick skin.” He mutters under his breath, pushing his glasses up slightly. But for all the complaining he does about his highschool friends, you still spot the smile hidden in the upturned corner of his lips, his eyes slightly brighter.

The conversation dies down into a comfortable silence that’s occasionally broken by the scratch of a pen on paper, or the shuffle of clothes as someone shifts around. You’re so focused on scribbling down the answers that you don’t notice the humming until it grows loud enough to catch your attention.

“I thought you said this song was a terrible song,” you remark, continuing to write even as you listen to his humming. It stops abruptly, and you glance up at him. “What? Don’t stop, I don’t mind it.”

“How do you know that song?” His voice is accusing, and the stare he shoots you is reminiscent of the guarded ones he used to give everyone before you became friends. Your brows furrow and the realization sinks in.

“How do  _ you _ know that song?”

His mouth opens and closes, a bewildered expression forming. 

“I don’t know. It’s just a song that’s always been in my head I guess.” 

There’s a tangible tension in the air, thick and filled with a strange familiarity that feels out of place. You catch his gaze, and you can almost hear the tune of a half-formed song in your mind. It lingers with an achingly familiar scent of something sweet, something soft, something that settles a restlessness you hadn’t known existed.

“What a strange coincidence,” you say softly, unwillingly to snap the tension. But it does anyway, and Tsukishima leans away from you, an awkward laugh falling from him. 

“It must be an old song we might have heard when we were younger,” he waves dismissively, shoving more papers to you. “Here, you got a couple of the questions wrong.”

You frown, but take the papers from him and return to your work, though you could still feel his burning gaze on you, brown eyes filled with an unnerving emotion you couldn’t quite place.


	3. haunting sovereignty

“It’s been half a year and you  _ still  _ get lost on campus,” Tsukishima teases as you flop into the seat beside him, dumping your bag onto the table with a heavy thump.

“Shut up,” you groan, slumping onto his shoulder. “This class is on a whole nother side of campus, and I’ve never been here before.”

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, opting to respond with an aggravating hum and an unnecessarily loud sip of his coffee. Eight o’clock classes weren’t good for you, especially if you hadn’t had time to drink any form of caffeine. Leaning more of your weight onto him, you stare down at the table, eyes crossing in and out of focus...

“Alright class, get into your pairs!”

You jerk away from Tsukishima, eyes wide as you watch the class shift around. “What’s going on?”

Tsukishima straightens up from his position, rolling his right shoulder back. “Your head’s heavy.”

You shoot him a glare, and he sniffs, tilting the screen of his laptop towards you. “We have to do research and present on the history of Japan’s monarchy. The teacher assigned us to the Forgotten Years. It’ll be a difficult topic to cover, but I figured we’d be able to handle it.”

“The Forgotten Years?” You furrow your brows in confusion.   
  
“Honestly, did you even open the textbook to read?” Tsukishima sighs, and explains. “They’re the years that the majority information of the ruling sovereignty at that point of time was lost. Hence, Forgotten Years.”

Nodding, you read through the project brief. This might be a challenge to research on, but lost things always called out to you, and this was no exception.

“You know, my grandmother used to tell me her grandmother’s grandmother had sovereign blood in her, though I think she just wanted to say she had royal blood in her,” you muse, grinning at Tsukishima. “You think you could have royal blood? You certainly have the looks for it, and that haughty personality to complete it.”

He starts, a light blush spreading across his cheeks as he processes your hidden compliment. “Well, you definitely don’t have royal blood in you. I doubt royals are ever late, nor would they walk around with a toothpaste stain on their collar.”

Glancing down, you do indeed find the red stain of your strawberry toothpaste on your collar. You frown, rubbing at it furiously until it goes away. 

“Shut up.” You grumble, glaring at the offending collar as Tsukishima snickers.

“You’re welcome,  _ Princess _ .”

* * *

You slump into the sofa next to Issei, curling up into his side as he and Makki argue over dinner. Without missing a beat, Issei wraps an arm around you, and you watch in amusement as they continue to yell.

“We had that last time, and the time before that,  _ and  _ the time before that time! It’s my turn to choose, and I’m choosing the ramen store on the corner of the street!”

“Oh, you’re just choosing that ramen store because of that cute delivery boy,” Issei sneers, tossing a pillow at your now-pinked face friend.

“Wha-shut up, no I’m not,” Makki splutters, tossing the pillow back.

You grin, pulling out your phone and placing an order for pizza. They were never going to settle on dinner, not tonight at least. A text from Tsukishima comes in, and you reply to him, tuning out the two idiots as their argument progresses.

“Y/n, back me up- what are you doing?” Issei frowns down at you, snatching your phone away and squinting at it. “Is that a boy? Are you texting a  _ boy _ ?”

Makki yelps and bounces off his seat, practically landing in Issei’s lap. “She’s what?”

You scramble for your phone, trying to wriggle out of Issei’s death grip. “He’s just a friend, we have a few classes together.”

“Just a friend?” Makki says incredulously. “Do you give all your  _ just friends _ emojis like his?”

You flush and jab Makki in his side. He squeaks, jerking up in Issei’s lap. Issei wraps his free arm around Makki’s waist. “Dude, don’t bounce around like that. Your bony ass doesn’t feel good.”

“Then get her royal highness not to assault my sides,” the pink-haired man argues back, going as far as to elbow Issei’s stomach.

“If Princess wants to attack you, then attack you she shall.” He winks at you. “I am merely her servant, here to carry out her wishes.”

“The Princess wishes for her phone to be returned.” You shoot them a pointed stare.

“Here to carry out  _ most _ of her wishes,” Issei amends. “Sorry Princess, but we gotta see who this mysterious boy is.”

“His name is Tsukishima Kei, and he happened to be from the same prefecture we lived in.”

“Tsukishima Kei? His name sounds familiar…” Makki scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Show us his photos.”

You hold your hand out, staring them down. “I’ll need my phone back for that.”

Issei returns your phone reluctantly, and you go to his Instagram, flashing them brief photos of him.

“Oh! I remember him, he was one of the volleyball players on Karasuno. Defeated us in our final year of high school, remember that Mattsun?”

Issei glares at Makki, their third year still a touchy subject. “So what’s he like?”

“What do you mean what’s he like? Didn’t you just say you knew him?” You shake your head incredulously. 

He waves a hand dismissively as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, as a volleyball player, not as a person. Besides, you didn’t see us hang around others much did you?”

“Mmm, that’s fair.” You sink back into Issei’s side as Makki rolls onto the ground, resting his head on your leg. “Well, he’s..., he’s a nice guy I guess?” You shrug helplessly.

At their prodding glares, you scrunch your face up and continue. “He’s smart, he has nice handwriting… oh, he has a mean streak, but it’s kinda funny I guess. He likes provoking people, and it’s quite funny to see people get worked up because of his comments. He gets this really pleased look when he successfully riles someone up, it’s kinda adorable.”

The duo stares at you in disbelief and you shift uncomfortably as the silence drags on.

“Someone has a crush,” Makki waggles his brows. 

“Someone has a very,  _ very  _ big crush.” Issei corrects, his thick brows rising so high they almost meet his hairline.

You flush deeply and smack them both. “I do not! You asked me what he's like and I told you.”

They exchange incredulous looks and turn back to you in unison.

“Did you even hear what you said and how you sounded?”

“It’s okay Mattsun. You know what they say, denial is the first step to acceptance.”

“I do  _ not _ have a crush on him, he’s just a friend.”

The doorbell rings then, and you jump up. “The pizza’s here, I’ll go get it.”

You silently thank the delivery boy for his fortunate timing, stuffing a little more than what’s necessary into his hands.

“Wait, when did you order pizza? I thought we were getting ramen!”

* * *

The delicate flower crown sits atop your head, a beautiful mixture of red, orange, and yellow wildflowers intertwined with each other. You wear it with pride and love, a bright smile shining at every stranger that walks past you in the cafe. Issei had made it for you this morning, with flowers he had illegally plucked from the park he jogs at.

It doesn’t take long for Tsukishima to arrive, perpetually in his cool composure and signature headphones. He usually greets you with a nod, but today all he can do is stare at you, stunned.

“What?” You touch your face self-consciously. “Is there something on my face?

The blond shakes his head, pushing his glasses up slightly. 

“No, you just- you look pretty.” A light blush coats his cheeks, and you can feel an answering flush creep down your neck.

“Thank you.” You aren’t quite sure how to respond, having never received such an outright compliment from the snarky blond before. It brings to mind the conversation you had the other day with your boys, and your flush deepens at the maybe-not-so-outlandish idea of you having feelings for Tsukishima.

“Crowns suit you,” he says offhandedly as he settles down in the seat opposite you.

(Your heartbeat definitely does not speed up even more at this. Not one bit.)

“I bet you’ll look good in crowns too! Flower crowns in specific.” You send a wink his way, relishing in the blush that creeps down his neck and past the collar of his shirt.

(You definitely do not enjoy that blush of his, especially since you caused it. You just like seeing him ruffled, that’s all.)

Flower crowns must be special, as despite the flustered expression he sports, Tsukishima replies steadily, “I look good in many things, but I doubt I’d pull off this look as well as you do.”

Your mouth drops open at his smooth reply and he leaves you no chance to gather a retort before he gets up to order your drinks - he has long memorised your order at this cafe.

He returns with your orders and sets your drink down. It has a little flower doodled on the side, with a large loopy ‘Princess’ scrawled beside it.

(Tsukishima, of all people, you scream internally.  _ Tsukishima Kei _ .)


	4. crash and crumble

Tsukishima tugs on your bag, shifting you out of the cyclist’s way. You thank him with a quick grin, still trying to fish your ringing phone out from your mess of a bag. It stops ringing for a second before it goes off again. There, it was trapped beneath the thick red textbook you had borrowed from Tsukishima for a class.

“Hello?”

“Mattsun got into a car accident, we’re at the hospital now-” Makki’s voice sounds through the phone, and your ears are filled with a loud ringing.

Issei was in a car accident.  _ Issei was in a car accident _ .

Your breath quickens as Makki continues to ramble in your ear, every word he speaks is nothing but mere background noise. Issei was in a car accident. Oh god,  _ he was in a car accident _ . You need to go to him now, you need to help him now. He’s going to bleed out, there’s so much blood, their limbs are twisted at such an odd angle, their eyes are going dull,  _ there’s so much blo _ -

“Hey, hey.” Tsukishima grips your shoulder firmly. Your phone is now pressed against his ear, and his eyes are filled with worry. “Listen, he’s fine. It wasn’t a big accident. He’s fine.”

“He- I- Issei-” You choke on the sobs and words that fight each other, hands coming up to grip his sweater tightly. “Issei-”

“He’s fine,” Tsukishima repeats softly. “He’s just scraped up.”

You shake your head, salt filling your mouth. Issei isn’t okay, he was in a car accident and you knew how they always ended - them being dead and you left alone, and you’ll have no one, and he’ll be gone, and he’s dead, oh god, he’s de-

“Matsukawa is  _ fine _ ,” Tsukishima says, more firmly now. His fingers dig into your shoulder, and the pressure pulls you back from the edge, but you remain teetering, frightened eyes staring into his concerned ones. “We’ll go see him now and you can see for yourself that he’s okay, alright?”

You nod mutely, shaking hands coming up to dash away the panicked tears. They don’t stop falling even as you make your way to the hospital, not even as strangers shoot you odd looks. Tsukishima is a steadying force beside you, his glares quickly averting their gazes away. You’re grateful for his presence, and even more so when he doesn’t yank his hand away when you slip yours into his.

It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the hospital, Makki greeting you at the entrance of the emergency room with a sheepish smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry I scared you. Mattsun’s completely fine, just a few scratches and bruises…” he trails off as he notes your panicked state. “He’s just down the hall, third bed from the left-”

You let go of Tsukishima's hand and run, leaving behind the two males to stare at your back. One, two, three-

“Issei!” You half-gasped, half-sobbed out, skidding to a halt in front of the bed he’s perched upon. 

“Princess.” He gives you an easy grin, though you spot the underlying concern beneath it. “Hey, see, I’m alright! Just a few bruised ribs and a couple of scratches, that’s all.”

Your face screws up, and you turn your back on him. You don’t want him to see you breaking, not after all the progress you’ve made, but you can’t help the tears that force their way out of you, raging and storming their path down your cheeks. But there’s nowhere for you to go, nowhere for you to hide from the humiliation that’s sure to come, so you close your eyes and choke on the sobs.

A warm hand pulls you face-first into their chest, and you bury your face into the soft fabric of their maroon sweater. Their arms wrap around you, securing you and hiding you from view, and you  _ let go _ . You cry so hard as fear and relief wash over you, drowning you in suffocating waves. Their hand strokes your head but they say nothing, and you’re grateful for that. 

When you felt like you had finally run out of tears, you pulled back slightly from the person, sniffling slightly as you identified who had been your living tissue. Tsukishima meets your stare and lifts a hand up to wipe your tears away using his sleeve. He even dabs at your nose slightly after, brows furrowed in concentration.

“You okay?” He murmurs, one arm still wrapped around you. You nod and pull out of his arms, turning to face Issei. Scanning over Issei slowly, you nod again, going to sit next to him. Issei knows the last thing you want to do is address the situation, so he does what he knows best - aggravate people.

“So, Prince, do you think people would find these scars attractive?”

Tsukishima scowls deeply, an affronted look plastered across his face. “Who are you calling Prince?”

Issei smirks, and you know exactly what he’s about to say. 

“Well, you’re da- Ow!” You glare at him as he gingerly rubs his ribs. “Don’t hurt the patient, jeez! One minute you’re sobbing over me, the next you’re injuring me further.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit like that.” You soften your glare as he winces in pain. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have elbowed so hard.”

Issei waves it off, straightening his posture and turning his attention back onto Tsukishima.

“Anyways, as I was going to say before I got so  _ rudely  _ interrupted,” he side-eyes you, and you smack his thigh lightly. “I’m calling you Prince because you have this haughty look on your face, kind of like you don’t like what you’re seeing.”

Tsukishima’s glare deepens, and Issei shouts in triumph. “Exactly like that!”

The blond rolls his eyes and ignores him, turning to you instead. “I’ll be outside waiting if you need me.”

He stalks out, ignoring the taunting calls Issei sends after his back. You giggle in amusement, and Issei returns his attention to you.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” He asks gently, hand gripping yours.

You look at him, at the little cuts that litter his face, the split lip he sports. You think of Tsukishima’s words, and the steady beat of his heart as you pressed against his chest. You squeeze Issei’s hand back.

“I’m okay.”

* * *

Tsukishima doesn’t bring up your complete meltdown at all, and you’re torn between feeling grateful and the urge to curse his tactfulness. As much as you appreciate his lack of prying, this is a conversation you’d much rather have than leave it hanging like a dark cloud over you two, threatening to set loose a thunderstorm that may very well ruin whatever you have going on.

It takes you three failed attempts to talk about it and Issei sending you a strongly worded text from his bathroom break at his job that you finally manage to force the words out.

“My parents were in a car crash last year.” It feels like a weight off your chest to say those words, and you realize that this was the first time you said it aloud since their passing. The next words come out easier, and Tsukishima straightens out from his relaxed posture, hands folded upon the table. “I was in the car with them, and I watched the whole accident happen from the backseat.”

You swallow harshly, taking a shuddering breath as you try to steady yourself. Tsukishima rests a hand over yours and the contact soothes you. You turn your hand over to grasp his tightly and continue. “I don’t really remember how it happened, but someone said that it was a drunk driver that crashed into us. Can you believe it? A drunk driver did them in.”

Your smile is more bitter than the coffee that sits in front of you, and the tears that threaten to fall are just as hot. 

Tsukishima doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. The gentle squeeze he gives is worth a thousand words, and you breathe a little easier, your shoulders a little lighter. You sit there quietly, in the same cafe you first studied together in, his hand over yours, your coffee next to his plate of strawberry shortcake.


	5. things my heart used to know

The trip to the castle comes so quickly that you aren’t sure you didn’t just time travel to the future. But here you are on the bus, seated next to Tsukishima as he leans against the window, headphones situated firmly on his head. You doze for the majority of the journey, waking only when the teacher announces that you’re only a few minutes away from your destination.

The road leading up to the castle is unassuming, much like any other roads leading up to the mountainsides. But the view that greets you around the corner is anything but. The castle stands tall, beautiful in ways only ancient things can be. Even from a distance you can see how large it is, its sheer magnificence stealing the breath from you. Even Tsukishima lifts his gaze from his phone, eyes wide as he stares at the ancient ruins.

It doesn’t take long for your bus to arrive at its front gates, and starry-eyed students pour off the multiple buses. The first step off the bus has a strong nostalgia washing over you, with the distant sounds of trumpets exploding and hooves clopping as the crowd cheers and your skirts swish-

“Don’t block the way, idiot.” A light shove from behind has you stumbling forward, and you shake your head, slightly disoriented.

“Sorry, I was just- nevermind.” You shake your head once more. “Anyways, they said we were allowed to wander around for a few hours before meeting back up before dinner.”

Tsukishima hums in response, tucking his headphones into his bag. “Alright, well we have a few places we need to visit first, I think some photos would be good for our report.”

The teachers lead you into the castle where a map is given out before everyone disperses. You can’t help but ogle at the architecture, the high ceilings of pale stone and gold casting iridescent glimmers across the floors and walls. It’s everything you had expected of a castle, and even more.

Tsukishima leads the way to your first destination, a corridor of portraits of the sovereignty that inhabited this castle. Half of them are damaged, you noted dolefully. There were slashes in the paintings, and some of them seemed to have been burned.

“What a pity,” Tsukishima remarks. He points at the remnants of one portrait. “She was a beautiful woman, though the painter didn’t do her justice.”

You glanced at him oddly. “There… there is barely anything left of her face, how would you know if the painter did her justice or not?”

He bristles at that, choosing to ignore you by snapping more photos of the portraits. It’s strange, he seems to be familiar with this place, kind of like he was at home. He does look like he’d fit right in with the royals on the wall, with the same distant and haughty look.

You spend the next few hours following Tsukishima around as he guides you down the confusing, identical hallways. Photos after photos were taken, and a few too many moments of unnerving deja vu has you on edge. 

“It’s almost time, maybe we should head back…” You trail off as you stare down the corridor you’re in, head tilting slightly. It was barred off from the public, with velvet barricades and large signs. You know you shouldn’t cross it, shouldn’t go down there, but you  _ had _ to.

It is more than instinct that drags you over the red barriers and past the ‘Restricted Area’ signs, Tsukishima following behind you quietly. The pale stone walls feel like an old friend ushering you to your destination, the flecks of peeling gold winking at you as you trail down the long corridors. There it was. Something that hid behind the large doors of heavy wood and metal calling you, urging you to come and see.

You press a palm to the wood, and a gentle shove has the door creaking open slightly. A sweet melody plays, and you turn to Tsukishima with wide eyes.

“That’s- that’s our song.” He breathes out and pushes the door open wider. The ballroom is empty, but you swear you can almost see faint silhouettes spinning and dancing, lingering along the edges. It feels like you’re walking into a dream, your head clouded with muffled whispers that paint a clear image in your mind.

You can almost see it, walking down the stairs, your back straightening as your chin tilts up. The music grows louder and louder and louder until you’re in the very centre of the ballroom, Tsukishima standing in front of you. 

He looks just as dazed. Without a word, he extends a pale hand, and you slide your hand into his. As if on cue, the red string fades into view, and you  _ remember _ .

“Tsukishima.” Your voice is softer than a whisper, and yet it still echoes through the ballroom, waking dormant memories long lost to misfortune. The music crescendos and it sets every inch of you alight with the notes that dance upon your skin, twirling the red string around you two. With every chord that sounds, the restlessness within dissipates into a comforting peace, one you hadn't experienced in your life. In either life.

Tsukishima’s gaze is heavy with the weight of two lives, but the words that follow are filled with a relieving lightness. “So Princess was a fitting nickname, huh?”

You flush, your grip on his hand tightening. The string jerks slightly at the movement and Tsukishima smirks, squeezing your hand back.

“Shut up, like Issei didn’t nickname you Prince when he met you.” He merely shrugs, unaffected by your jab. Though why would he? He was a Prince after all.

The song comes to an end, the last notes echoing in the empty ballroom. It doesn't deter Tsukishima from asking you for a dance, and just for old times’ sake, you agree.

Your hands settle on him, as his does on you, and your bodies move on instinct, dancing to the memory of a melody long lost to time. There was nothing but you and him, red twining you two, in the empty ballroom that held memories of short-lived lives.

Here you were, right back at the beginning, with him.


	6. the road to here (extras)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here are just some extra bits and pieces

Issei has no idea how he ended up in this position.

His hands tremble with the effort of keeping his sword upright as he stares at the men clad in black. He knows better than to let fear cloud his judgement, but here he was, shaking like a novice in battle. It’s ironic, he knows; the great Matsukawa who had faced an entire army alone and quite literally stared death in the face was now wavering in front of a few assassins.

But that was the thing. He was trained to fight soldiers. They were predictable, loud and messy. He had never been prepared to face silence and swiftness. He fought boars and bears, not asps and vipers.

In battle, he had only fought for his country, for his life. But here, here he was fighting for  _ your _ life. Here he had to make sure you were able to escape safely, and if any one of these assassins got past him…

A shudder runs down his spine. No, he wasn’t going to let any of them past him. He swore an oath to you, to your father, and he was going to keep it, even the cost of it was his life.

_ ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to be by your side anymore…’  _ He knows you’ll never hear his silent apology, but he hopes you forgive him anyway. 

“None of you are getting past me,” he snarls, lunging forward with the very sword you had gifted him. “Not today.”

Two assassins are left standing when he’s taken down by a lucky strike, the dagger dragging its way down his chest in jagged strokes. They do make it past him and into the passageway you escaped through. But you’re long gone, Issei notes with a pained chuckle. He doesn’t mind going out like this, as long as you were okay.

Maybe he'd even get to see you in another life.


End file.
